


A Kiss Like a Heart Attack

by erinn_bedford



Category: Still Star-Crossed (TV)
Genre: Ben finds out about Romeo, F/M, Kisses, past Rosaline and Escalus, they make each other feel safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 08:46:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11482821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erinn_bedford/pseuds/erinn_bedford
Summary: "And the worst part is, as much as she wants to hate Benvolio Montague, she can’t.  There’s something about his eyes, how he smiles when he’s amused, the look he gave her when he found her and Escalus in the chapel, how he didn’t tell anyone."Or, Rosaline sees Benvolio at his weakest, and maybe they don't hate each other as much as they think.





	A Kiss Like a Heart Attack

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing for these two. I hope I did them justice. Thanks for reading!

She can still taste him on her lips.

It’s been days since he broke her heart again, since he told her he would have her, only to crush her heart the next morning, since she realized everything she had expected of Escalus was for naught.

But she can’t stop thinking about his lips. About the way he kissed her. About how he said he loved her.

She knows something is wrong. She is not an idiot, despite what her aunt and everyone else wants to think. She knows Verona is not only burning, but exploding, and suddenly, she in right in the middle of it. She should have left. Rosaline should have run away a long time ago, dragging Livia by her hair if she had too.

They would have been safe. They would have been free.

She wouldn’t have to marry the Montague.

Rosaline hated thinking about Escalus, because it made her think of Benvolio. She hated thinking about Benvolio because he made her think of Escalus. Basically, she wanted to stop thinking of any men whatsoever. Maybe it wasn’t too late for the nunnery.

And the worst part is, as much as she wants to hate Benvolio Montague, she can’t. There’s something about his eyes, how he smiles when he’s amused, the look he gave her when he found her and Escalus in the chapel, how he didn’t tell anyone.

Under different circumstances, she wouldn’t hate him. But being a pawn in her cities game of life or death makes compassion and friendship almost impossible.

xXx

He can still taste her on his lips.

Monsters. The city was run with monsters. They had chopped of Romeo’s head, and someone covered it up.

Benvolio was tired. His city was burning, his uncle was always on his back, and then there was the girl, Rosaline, with her pretty eyes and mischievous smile.

He wishes he had someone to talk to, but his best friends, his brothers, are both in a crypt, and one of them is missing a limb.

Everything had happened so fast he didn’t have time to mourn.

He doesn’t know when he starts to cry, but he does. His hands start to shake, he can’t see, or hear, or feel, and then he’s crashing into someone. He nearly tumbles to the ground, but hands grab his arms.

“Benvolio.”

He knows that voice. Rosaline, his betrothed, the woman he was supposed to marry to save Verona.

She had never called him Benvolio before.

“Benvolio what’s wrong?” Her hands cup his face, and he’s still shaking, still crying.

“I – I – um –” he can’t speak. The words won’t come out, his hands won’t stop shaking, and suddenly her lips are on his, soft, steady, safe.

It shocks him enough that he stops shaking.

“Now, Montague, tell me what’s wrong?” Her tone is back to slightly annoyed, but her eyes are soft and her hands are still on his cheek

“Romeo. Someone cut off –” He feels the bile rise up in his throat and he crashes to the ground, Rosaline holding his head as he vomits.

“I’m alone, Capulet, I’m so alone.”

Later, he will wish he wasn’t so open with her. They are only a few weeks into their betrothal, only a few weeks into knowing each other, and the last thing he wants is a Caplet to see his weakness.

But she surprises him.

Her lips press against his forehead and she pulls his hands close to her. “Benvolio.” She forces him to look at her. “You have me.”

xXx

Grapes. At least that’s what she thinks his mouth tasted like, and for all she knows it could have wine, but the Montague, her Montague, was all she could think about. She never realized what he had lost.

She had lost Juliet, her cousin, her confidant, her responsibility. But she still had Livia. Benvolio had lost everyone. She knew how important Romeo and Mercutio where to him. She had seen them, in the streets, laughing, fooling around, smiling. She had seen them when Romeo tried to win her affections at the market. She had seen them at the Capulet party where Romeo met Juliet. Benvolio was alone, even more than she was.

She had kissed him. Something she never thought she would ever do and now it was all she could think about.

But thinking about Benvolio made her think about Escalus, and thinking about kissing Benvolio made her feel like she was betraying Escalus, even though he made his feelings abundantly clear.

All of it just made her head hurt.

xXx

He can’t get the blasted Capulet out of his head. She had kissed him. One second he was crying, unable to think clearly, and then next Rosaline Capulet was kissing him and he didn’t mind it. She calmed him down. She made him able to think again. She made him better.

And now all he could think about was her lips, soft and exploring. She looked surprised at herself, when she pulled back, but she held her head high, asked him what was wrong, made a plan to figure out what was going on.

She talked, she calmed him down, she listened to him. And he, well he stared at her eyes.

Her eyes are beautiful, full of light and emotion, but completely impossible to draw. He worked through nearly an entire sketch book in the last two days trying to get them right, but he couldn’t. He had drawn her lips, her nose, everything he could remember from memory, but her eyes evaded him.

In real life, they evaded him as well. 

“You know Capulet, ignoring me isn’t going to stop our wedding.” He decides to go with cocky, teasing, the complete opposite of the last time she saw him. He is strong, he is not going to let her see his weakness again, because they do not like each other, and showing each other their real selves is dangerous.

“I’m not ignoring. I’m avoiding.” Her casually unaffected tone is back, and he smiles, actually smiles, because they are actors in their own lives, and she plays her part beautifully. But he knows more. He knows how her lips feel against his, that really, she is on his side. Even if they don’t like each other.

“That won’t stop our wedding either.”

She won’t look at him. He can’t see her eyes. Which almost drives him to touch her chin, to make her turn toward him. It would look like a token of affection, but he’s afraid she will bite him. Instead he reaches for her hand and drops a bunch of grapes into her palm.

“You should eat. Don’t want you to faint when we dance.” He says, popping one into his own mouth.

“Who said I was going to dance with you?”

“Livia.” That gets her attention. That gets her eyes.

“Excuse me?” Her eyes are on fire and his hand itches for a pencil he doesn’t have.

“I ran into her, and she said if we didn’t dance together there was going to be talk, and that talk was generally frowned upon. Especially since your uncle is throwing this in our honor.”

Rosaline sucks in a breath and angrily, at least as angrily as one can, stuffs a grape in her mouth.

“Come on then, Montague.” She grabs his hand and leads them toward the dance floor, and he pretends he isn’t thinking about kissing her again.

xXx

They nearly reach the floor when the Lord Capulet announces the Prince and his sister Isabella. Rosaline’s heart stops, and she all but drags her betrothed in the opposite direction, out of the room and onto one of the smaller balconies.

“I thought we were dancing–” The smile drops from Benvolio’s face when he looks at her. “Capulet, what’s wrong?”

“I talked to him.” Her voice sounds hollow even to her own ears. She had talked to Escalus, just like they had planned. “I told him about Romeo, and–” Suddenly she cannot breathe.

She had spoken to the Prince, told him what she knew, and he dismissed her.

_“This is not a women’s subject!”_

_His eyes are angry, but Rosaline knows him, he is breaking, shattering._

_“It does not matter –”_

_“Don’t you see, Ros, can’t you see why we cannot be together.”_

Talking to Escalus only made her feel worse. She had seen the vulnerability of both the man she loved and the man she was supposed to love. Escalus broke her heart for the sake of Verona. Not because he wanted to.

Benvolio’s hand cups her face. “Rosaline,” he says her name, and something inside of her snaps into place. “You have me.” Her words repeated back at her only make her feel guiltier. Because she wants to kiss him. She wants to kiss him again, but Escalus is right outside.

Escalus, the man who told her he loved her, and then threatened her sister’s virtue. The man who told her he loved her, but instead of telling her the truth, dismissed her. The man who was forcing her to marry for the sake of the city. The man who asked her to choose him, and then made her regret that decision.

“You said my name.”

Benvolio smirks, leaning forward so his forehead brushes against hers. “Yes. It is quite a pretty name. Only to be used in extreme circumstances. I am too attached to Capulet.”

She reaches forward, her fingers dancing across his cheeks. “You have charcoal on your nose.” She whispers, because they are close enough that talking at full volume seems too loud.

“I was trying to draw your eyes.” He smiles, and her cheeks heat up. He smiles, and she wants to kiss him. He smiles, and everything seems to fall into place.

Rosaline drops her hand and gently pushes him back a few inches. She decides she’s no longer going to feel guilty for wanting to kiss her fiancé, but she needs space away from him because she cannot think properly with him so close.

Benvolio’s eye flash with something that resembles hurt, but Rosaline is certain she imagines it.

“Did I–” There is steel back in his voice that makes her wish she was better at this, better at them.

“No, I–”

“I understand.”

“Understand what?” She doesn’t mean to sound so angry, but whatever was happening just seconds ago is gone.

“The Prince is here.” The acid in his tone almost burns her.

“What does Escalus have to do with anything?”

Benvolio rolls his eyes and he makes a move to step away from her, but she moves at the exact moment, bringing them both into each other’s space again.

“Capulet,” He all but growls.

“Beloved.” She tries to put poison in her words, but she falters halfway through.

She takes a step back, and he moves back toward the door.

“I can’t believe I was starting to think that we could actually get along.” She says under her breath, but he catches her words.

“As if a Capulet could ever actually be agreeable.” He sneers.

Rosaline can’t believe was thinking about kissing him only moments ago.

“Oh please, Montague, your clan is nothing but –”

Benvolio’s head turns toward the door and in the next instant, he is pressing her against the wall.

“Someone’s coming.”

Before she can say anything, his lips press against hers.

xXx

He’s pretty sure he’s stunned her into silence. She doesn’t move, doesn’t push him away, or kiss him back or anything.

Until.

She untenses, her lips slowly start to move against his, and her hand slides up his chest, his neck, into his hair.

The door opens, but he doesn’t pull away.

“Oh!”

He’s almost positive the voice belongs to Livia, but he only slides his tongue along the seam of her mouth, and Rosaline makes a noise at the back of her throat that vibrates through his entire body.

“Sorry! I’ll just go back inside.”

Now he is certain it is Livia, but he doesn’t care. He’s spent the last two days thinking about Rosaline’s lips, about how her dress would feel under his fingers, about how he wanted to know what an actual, full bodied kiss with Rosaline Capulet would feel like.

The door closes, but he keeps kissing her, until he needs to breathe. He pulls back, his hands still tangled in her dress, her hands still locked in his hair.

Rosaline’s pupils are blown wide, and she’s breathing hard. His heart is beating so fast Benvolio is certain she can feel it.

He takes another step back and her hands fall back to her side.

“My apologies, Capulet.”

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, and he has to stop himself from kissing her again.

“For what?” She asks, breathless.

He can’t stop the smile from growing on his face. “Whichever needs more apologizing for.”

She snorts, such an unexpected sound that he can’t help but laugh himself.

“Me too.” she says, grabbing onto his arm so as they make their way back inside. “But not for kissing you back.”

xXx

Benvolio Montague does not go back to his Uncle’s house later that night and draw her eyes until his charcoal sticks are barely stubs and he has filled every available page with her image. He does not fall asleep at his desk thinking of kissing her again. He does not dream of her lips.

xXx

Rosaline Capulet does not blush when he kisses her knuckles in farewell. She does not sigh when Livia brings up the balcony later that night before they go to bed. She does not think about his lips when the nurse places a bowl of grapes on the breakfast table. She does not think about him at all.

xXx

(Both of them are lying.)


End file.
